Tangled Loves
by e-thyme
Summary: Hogwarts' most popular Head Boy. A fiery Muggle-born beauty. A cocky teenager defying his family. A werewolf trying desperately to fit in. And a soon-to-be Death Eater. Each one different, but all inextricably tied together by love.
1. James: Desire

Summary: A short story about a twisted love net set during the MWPP era. It's easy to fall in love with someone, but rarely does that person love you back.

A/N: Yeah, I know. There are about an endless amount of stories just like this that dot FF.net. Well, now it's my turn.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all these characters and the Harry Potter series is most definitely not mine. I'm just playing God over their lives for a while; no infringement intended.

Rating: [PG-13]

Tangled Loves 

_James:_

She's absolutely beautiful.

My eyes hurt and my heart squeezes just watching her. That's all I ever do now. Watch her. Through Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, I just sit there, staring at her gorgeous face, memorising every feature and expression. You'd never see those eyes anywhere else, except on Lily's face. Sparkling emeralds, exquisite and rare, just like her. She'll never know just how much control she has over me – I think I'd even kill my best friends if she gave the word. 

I never believed them when they said love was a dangerous thing – until now.

Lily. Even her name holds the splendour and grace of a goddess. She radiates with such purity and goodness, and yet underneath all that, she still has a will of steel and a strength that would give Hercules a run for his money. Looking at her smile, I feel all my cockiness and bravado slipping away, god, I'm nobody compared to her.

For centuries, people have searched for a true example of perfection. They need not look any further than here. Lily is just that: she's what perfection is all about. Physically, she's an artist's dream. I would know. Her image is etched into the insides of my eyelids. Every time I close my eyes, I see her. My nights are filled with thoughts about her… and I'll admit now, that I'm no saint. I love everything about her with such a burning passion; never in my whole life have I wanted something so badly. I love how her hair kind of cascades over her shoulders, in flaming streams of fire. I love the way her skin shines after a particularly sweaty Care of Magical Creatures class. I love her stunning eyes, that are always laughing and so full of life, yet that joy never seems to be directed at me. I could go on forever, but I'd still never be able to convey fully just how much I love Lily Evans. Words are simply not enough; nothing short of a miracle is.

Sometimes, I think that I'm cursed. I have everything BUT the one thing I want most: Lily. Money, reputation, good looks, popularity, I've got it all in the palm of my hand, but the girl of my dreams? Nothing. Not even a smile or an affectionate glance.

Bloody hell, what would the others say if they knew what a pathetic idiot I'd become? I thank Merlin that nobody sees the way my throat constricts when Lily so much as looks at me, or the way my heart falls into the pit of my stomach when her clear gaze passes over me without so much as an acknowledgement, but plenty of scorn. I thank god no one sees. Except for Remus. He's simply too bloody perceptive. I'll bet that he, of people, would have noticed the muscles tightening in my neck, and my confident air evaporating to nothing whenever _she_ comes near. An incredible look of sadness and longing always shines through his eyes whenever these moments come. Sometimes, when I'm not obsessing over Lily, I wonder why.

But often I'm too busy concentrating on this empty ache inside of me. It's this throbbing pain that fills my heart every time I see her. I want her and I need her, she's almost like a drug; I've seen and felt her delicious allure, and now I just want to give myself completely to that temptation.

My skin burns with fiery passion every time I think about what could happen if I really did give in to this need, and she returned it with every bit as much fervour. It would have been arousal of the first degree; my eyes glaze over with raw delight whenever the image crosses my mind.

_~_

_I want you so badly_

_I need to feel you so desperately_

_My body's desire is focused directly at you_

_My world is crumbling to a million pieces_

_And my thoughts whirl into a blaze_

_Of illogical meanings_

_With only one thing for sure:_

_I. Need. You._

_~_

I don't know how I can continue to live like this. I've found my true soul mate, and I know I can never love anyone like this again, but she'd prefer to keep me out of her sight for at least another lifetime. Now I understand why the act of suicide seems so appealing to many people. This mixture of torture and need is eating me alive; the pressure is smothering me so that I can barely breathe. But I could never contemplate the thought of ending all this.

Because in a sick, twisted way, I think I enjoy the sweet torment of my painful love, and, blind prat that I am, I still hope that one day, Lily will crave and need me just as much as I her.

* * * * * * *

Whew. That took slightly longer than I expected, but was still also slightly shorter than I hoped for. Overall, I'm pleased with how it turned out – most of it just came to me as I was typing. So, comments, suggestions, anyone? Any kind of feedback would mean so much.

Next chapter will be from Lily's POV.


	2. Lily: Crave

A/N: Thanks, of course, to everyone who's reviewed - that's really my only form of motivation. Well now, onto Lily's POV!

_Lily:_

Everyone's always seen me as a saint. A good, pure-hearted person.

Well I'm not.

Saints don't crave like I do.

Raven hair. Smooth, sun-kissed skin. Deep chocolate eyes, glassy with hunger. Soft, finely carved lips. Bare skin against bare skin. Sweat mingled with sweat.

Saints don't dream about these things like I do. They don't have these images locked into their heart for the rest of their natural lives. They don't feel the mind-numbing urge to destroy everything in the way of their goal, or in this case, soulmate.

It makes me sick to think about it sometimes. What I've turned into. I'm nothing short of an animal now, because I know, that if I just let go a little bit more, I'll go wild. Any logic or common sense or even _morality_ will be lost on me. Ironic, though, isn't it? Logic, common sense and morality have always been traits I've prized, and yet all it takes is Sirius Black for them all to evaporate into nothingness.

God, it's so damn hard all the time. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to stop yourself from claiming something you feel as if you've wanted for your whole life? Do you know how much I want to just run my fingers across that smooth jaw line, how much I want to wake up in the morning to hear the steady heartbeat of my beloved?

There I go again. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, to match my hair. Isn't it funny how the one thing you want out of life always seems to be forbidden, just out of your reach? Who would've guessed. Good old, down-to-earth Lily lusting after the most notorious flirt ever to enter these grounds. I can't even understand it myself. Why _him_, of all people? But even as I ask myself this question, I know the answer. Because he's Sirius, the cocky boy with the most heart melting grin. The person who'd stick up for his friends through thick and thin with unwavering loyalty. The student who stereotypes all Slytherins, and especially Snape, simply because he can't understand them. The boy who has his own demons to deal with, despite that bold, swaggering exterior. And most of all, a soul that has so much love and passion to give, so much strength and devotion to offer.

It sounds like a fairy tale, almost. And it would be too, if he could only love and need me like I do him. But no. His dazzling grins are reserved for one person only, and I can only dream that that person was I. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach every time it happens, every time his face softens at the sight of _him_. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to strangle someone, but all I allow to happen is the bile rising up my tight throat as I am hit in the face by cruel reality, like someone's cold fingers slapping me awake from a delicious dream.

However, what infuriates me even more is the way that this person seems to be completely oblivious of his fortune, totally unaware that he is the recipient of one of the greatest treasures in the world. _Can't you see?! _I want to yell, _I would die a million deaths to be in the position you are now, jump off the edge of the world to have a fraction of the affection he lavishes upon you, be tortured at Voldermort's hands to make him feel something more than just friendly indifference for me -_

I'm drowning. 

Drowning in a sea of my own pain that's throbbing and pushing at every area of my mind so that soon my whole being is pulsing with pain and grief and I can barely breathe because my throat is constricting too hard and it hurts and I can taste a metallic saltiness on my tongue it's my blood – blood that's seeping out from my heart leaving just an old dry shell behind and my emotions are eating me alive battling one another for first place and I'm trying to get out but soon this sea turns into a steel cage and I'm trying to claw my way out because it's too claustrophobic in here and my fingers are bloodied but I don't care because I need to get out because I can't live like this, I can't live like this, I can't live like this, _I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS_ -

I can shriek and thrash around like a wild animal in my head all I like, but the truth remains that I can never have Sirius Black. 

We'll all graduate from Hogwarts, and we will walk across these grounds for the final time, going in our separate ways, journeying along our different paths. And I'll be leaving a piece of my heart behind, here in the rich memories woven into the magic that surrounds this castle. Sirius will become an Auror, probably, and if he can't get the one person he wants, he'll marry some pretty, exotic girl from far away who'll try to control his wild streak. Or maybe she'll love him for his danger and passion, and they'll make beautiful babies with drop dead gorgeous smiles. But he'll never be happy because she won't be the one he truly loves, the one he breathes and lives for. Oh, I would know, wouldn't I?

Either way, I'll be alone. I'll marry some nice, good-looking bloke from the Ministry, and we'll have one or two children, perhaps. But I'll still be alone, always alone. Oh, I'll love my children unconditionally, of course, and fulfil my role of dutiful mother, but every night, when they're asleep, I'll pray to God that their father was the beautiful, charming boy I used to know.

Saints don't wish for such immoral things.

* * * * * * *

Well, there it is, people. I'd love to hear what you think, so review!! It'll be great motivation for the next chapter, which will be from Sirius' POV.


	3. Sirius: Fulfilment

WARNING: This chapter contains slash. SLASH. Do I need to elaborate? Please do not read this if you are going to get offended. 

_Sirius' POV:_

All those girls – they mean nothing to me.

It's cruel and cold-hearted, but it's true, and I've always been honest. At least to myself.

I don't feel absolutely _nothing_ for them… it's just that after a while, they all begin to blend into one massive body. Instead of regarding them as Mandy or Angela or Lauren, or in other words, individuals, they just become… '_them'_, girls I snog for ten minutes before every lesson.

I don't like saying it, but that's just the way it is. But why do I do it? Why knowingly become Hogwarts' resident heartbreaker?

To fulfil the need I feel for _him_. To feed the hunger that begins deep down in the pit of my stomach and spreads throughout my body, leaving tingling trails of fire. To satisfy the desire that courses through my veins, pumping my heart with more energy than blood alone could do.

But of course, like all great romances go, Mandy and Angela and Lauren never _do_ fill the emptiness that sings its aching song in my chest everyday. 

I've never been one for sappy mush, but this just goes to show what Remus Lupin does to me.

What he does to me… it's not just physical attraction, definitely not, and it's more than the fact that we 'connect'. It's… it's like, when I'm with him, everything just feels so right, like he's answered a need in me that I never even knew existed. It sounds so complicated, but it's actually so simple. It just _is_. I don't even know if it's only love. I think it's… even above that. 

Who knew falling in love, being in love, could be so complicated?

He doesn't know.

How could he?

How do I tell him?

It's funny, isn't it, how all our most prized personal traits fly out the window when they're _most_ needed? Like how I can't find the impulse to just tell Remus how I feel, to just _do_ it, get it over and done with. Where's that old recklessness when I need it? 

Or how Remus' bloody insightfulness is lost when it comes to things like this staring him right in the face. He can notice what everyone else misses; the smallest details, the masked thoughts, but with things just _waiting_ to be detected by him, he can be so amazingly dense!

But deep down, I know these are just excuses. Excuses for the inevitable. 

He loves me as a brother, and a best friend, but that's where it ends. His love has an ending point, a limit, unlike mine. My love for him is the kind that fairy tales are woven out of, just without the 'happily ever after'. It's never-ending and unconditional; it's like sweet summer rain and clear crystals; the kind that everyone dreams about.

The kind that _I_ used to dream about, when I lay in bed at night, hating my family, my heritage, and everything that is stood for. Wishing for love; real, lasting, soul-searing love.

That maybe love would only be one-way never occurred to me.

I guess my wish must have been a double-edged sword. In that case, perhaps even love is a double-edged sword.

Then does that mean I'm unlucky to have experienced the full blow? Never. I will _never _regret this feeling, I will never regret falling in love with Remus. If I lost this, it would be like losing everything, losing life itself. It hurts, but I can't let go, because my love _is_ my life source. They're so interwoven; it's impossible to see where one begins and the other ends. Maybe, in the end, they're the same thing.

He's beautiful. And he's even more so because he's unaware of it. It's clichéd, but it's a cliché for a reason, isn't it? Not even a decade's supply of Butterbeer could satisfy the voice in my head that practically _screams_ at me to run my thumb along that fine face, across ivory skin and through silky, baby-soft golden hair. I remember the last time it was a full moon – that night, when I saw how his eyes, his beautiful, liquid eyes, changed from gentle and kind and loving to primal and raw and powerful. And god, how I wanted him. I wanted to take him right there and then, and I would have, too. Every muscle in my body was wrought with pent-up tension and urge, every fibre spilling with desire and heat. But god, thank god James had the sense to wake me from my guilty reverie with an urgent _hurry up and CHANGE, you senseless prat!_ For a terrifying second, I hated him. I hated my best friend for denying me the one thing I wanted that I couldn't have.

But it's not always like this, not always so heavy and heated and physical. There were, and still are, the light, carefree hours we would spend talking over Transfiguration essays, about everything: life, futures, dreams, even love. Remus doesn't want anything, except a good, steady job, and never to be alone. I always grin, and say, _you're not going to get rid of us that easily_. As for love, his reply is the same every time: '_Who wants a monster?_' followed by a bitter laugh. That's when I have to bite my lip, hard, to stop myself from forming the syllables on the tip of my tongue, which sound suspiciously like 'I do'. Instead, to break the tense silence, I come out with another one of my stupid jokes, like, _I heard a fourth-grade Hufflepuff tell her friend that she thought you were great shagging material._

And, like always, I have to kick myself to stop _me_ from visualising how utterly blissful it would be to feel Remus' lips pressed tentatively against mine, his low moans escaping into my mouth while my hands caress and touch, mapping his body, his soul, until we melt into one being, lost in a heaven only we know. 

But of course. That can't happen because he doesn't think about me like that. I'm just his best friend, nothing more, nothing less; good old Padfoot with his wild ideas and cocky fronts. If only the same could be said about the way I feel.

Every night, I'll go to bed with his face locked in my mind, knowing that I can only watch from afar. And it'll hurt, craving his touch and his smile and his eyes looking into mine, wishing for something that isn't. But maybe, just maybe, things might start to change. Maybe I won't have to live the rest of my life in limbo. And maybe unrequited feelings won't have to stay unrequited.


End file.
